


signs taken for wonders

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [182]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Pining, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Arthur touches Merlin all the time. It's just a shame he never means anything by it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broken_fannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_fannibal/gifts).



> For brokenfannibal, as a thank you for the lovely podfic :D You mentioned you wanted a million fics about these two touching; well, I can't quite manage a million, but hopefully this one will suffice!

 

Arthur touches Merlin at least a dozen times a day.

 

Not— _like that_. Not with any kind of intent behind it. Half the time, Merlin’s pretty sure Arthur doesn’t even know he’s doing it, his hands lingering against Merlin’s wrist, his back, his _skin_ like it’s perfectly commonplace, like he isn’t setting Merlin’s entire body on fire with only his fingertips.

 

He doesn’t do it to anyone else (Merlin’s checked) and he doesn’t mean anything by it (Merlin—well, he hasn’t checked, has he, but he _knows_ , no matter what he hopes, that Arthur doesn’t care) and it’s not his fault, necessarily, that it’s driving Merlin crazy, it’s just. It’s _driving Merlin crazy_ , to the point where he holds his breath sometimes in anticipation of The Touch, hoping and fearing by turns that this time Arthur will notice him, will become aware of his flushed cheeks and ragged pulse and he will _know_.

 

Merlin has never quite figured out what he will do once Arthur knows.

 

Merlin touches Arthur a lot, too, but that’s part of his job so it doesn’t count. It’s agonising, sometimes, to brush against Arthur’s throat while doing up his collar or lean against Arthur’s knee while doing up his boots and know that this is all it is. All it will ever be. Arthur doesn’t even appear to register that Merlin is so close, smiling into his face while he ties Arthur’s laces, or if he does it’s only to shove him away again, turn him around bodily and march him towards the stables, the bath, wherever it is that Arthur wants him this time.

 

~~(never in Arthur’s bed, more’s the pity, but Merlin has never held out any hope of that, not really; he may be a fool but he isn’t stupid)~~

 

Arthur isn’t shy about what he wants. If he wanted Merlin, he would have mentioned it, in the round-about sort of offhand way he has of talking about the things he really wants (Merlin has thought about this, in great detail); or he'd say something like, “Merlin, come to bed with me,” and that would be that—Merlin would put up a token refusal at first, because God forbid Arthur should get the impression that Merlin _likes_ him, but. He’d go, of course, in the end, because how could he not? Arthur is one of those things that is somehow inevitable, like the turning of the tide or the waning of the moon, and if Merlin had any sense of self-preservation left, he’d have turned around and left Camelot as soon as he arrived, right after he’d seen Mary Collins’ son being executed for magic.

 

Merlin has never had much by way of preservation instinct, and he could no more leave Arthur now than he could ask the tides to run backwards or pluck the moon from the sky, but when Arthur smiles at him sideways, or takes a little too long with those wonderful hands, well.

 

There are days sometimes when he almost wishes he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin touches Arthur all the time. One day, Arthur's going to figure out what he means by it.

 

Merlin touches Arthur at least a dozen times a day.

 

Partly that’s because of his job, of course, so it doesn’t really count. Arthur can’t exactly complain if Merlin’s fingers are too-warm at his throat while he’s doing up his shirt, or if Merlin’s straightening his jacket and lingers for a beat too long, his palms pressed flat against Arthur’s shoulders. It’s not like Merlin has ever been particularly good at his job, anyway, so occasionally molesting the royal person is minor compared to some of the things he’s done.

 

(a list, hastily compiled, consists of: talking back to the prince, talking back to the king, talking in general, _touching him—_ )

 

It just isn’t _done_ , that’s the thing. Arthur is a prince, and all his life other people have maintained a certain distance. Even his father, who by rights (Arthur acknowledges this guiltily) should be willing to offer a hug or a pat on the back every now and then has tended to hold himself back when it comes to his son, but Merlin is apparently oblivious to whatever it is that makes Arthur  ~~untouch~~ ~~unlove~~ untouchable and sweeps right on in, all hands and mouth and ears and that stupid, irrepressible grin.

 

Arthur touches Merlin, too, sometimes; they’re in such constant, close proximity that he can’t really help it, and anyway Merlin has never much seemed to mind. There are so many parts of Merlin that are covered up from him, starting with that beautiful neck and ending with his secrets, and there are moments when Arthur longs to peel away all the layers that separate them—to hold Merlin still, for once, and discover what makes him tick.

 

Whatever mechanism it is that drives him, however, it remains stubbornly undiscoverable, unreachable as an island ringed with rocks. Merlin himself slides away insouciantly under Arthur’s fingers, and it is one of the many peculiarities of being a prince that Arthur is permitted everything and anything except for the one thing he truly wants. He would consider it ironic, but Merlin would probably say it is deserved.

 

In any case, Merlin doesn’t _like_ Arthur very much, he’s made that clear, and as far as Arthur can tell he’s just like that with everybody (he’s checked) so it hardly signifies. Merlin is just one of those things, a thorn in Arthur’s side, a constant, someone that Arthur has (against his better judgment) learned to lean on. It’s hardly Merlin’s fault if Arthur wants to do more than lean, sometimes, if he wants to pin Merlin down on the bed with his whole weight and never let him go.

 

“Something you wanted, sire?” Merlin would ask (Arthur has dreamed of this particularly), and Arthur would kiss him, hard, to let Merlin know you can’t just _touch_ the Crown Prince of Camelot with impunity; there will be consequences. And Merlin would smile that stupid smile and kiss him back, and explain everything, and Arthur would promise him all manner of ridiculous things, if only he would never leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to check out brokenfannibal's awesome podifc of my story, [one for sorrow, two for joy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18600505) <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [here and where you are](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754108) by [schweet_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart)




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